Too Cold Outside For Angels To Fly
by ebi pers
Summary: Sequel to 'Like a Sheep to a Shepherd.' Months after Hal and Lourdes' time in the farmhouse, a sudden tragedy has brought them closer together. But can Hal overcome his conflicting feelings? And can Lourdes put what happened then and now behind her? T for angst and occasional bad words. Character death, not graphic. OFFICIALLY CANCELLED.
1. Another Planet's Hell

**A/N: Feel that? That's the excitement building! Wanna know why? Because THIS IS THE SEQUEL TO 'LIKE A SHEEP TO A SHEPHERD!' As promised :D This is set sometime en route to Charleston and will likely pan out to be AU. But I will try to bring it in line with the actual season as best I can but bear with me because (obviously) the show is still playing out. As you can see, the title is lifted from a line of Ed Sheeran's song 'The A-Team.' I think it suits this story because Lourdes is about to endure the greatest test of her faith of all. **

**CUE LONGWINDED EXPLANATION! The character Jamil is perfectly wonderful and he's definitely good for Lourdes. So, as a writer, I took the logical step of killing him off. Boo me. But hear me out: one, because I ship Hal/Lourdes, we can't have Jamil around. Secondly, Lourdes is an underused character in many respects and she's far too nice for everything to go her way. Killing Jamil off would be the most logical action to take. Now, because we're only midway through season 2, this story could become AU at any point. Be patient with me—I'll try to correct any discrepancies as they crop up. And, who knows, maybe Jamil will be killed of canonically by season's end—it seems likely as he's only listed as a guest star (and if I learned anything from Terra Nova, it's that major characters listed as guests are likely going to end up dead.) Anyway, thanks for bearing with this endless author's ramble. I wanted to set the stage. I promise not to be so talkative in my future notes. Now get to the readin' and the reviewin' and I'll keep up the writin'!**

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They buried him on a beautiful day, crystal clear, sun shining with deceptive warmth. But she felt so, so cold inside. The cross at the head of his grave was fashioned with her own hands. She spent hours finding the perfect branches, whittling them down until the splinters marked both her palms and all ten of her fingers. She fastened them with strips off of her own, white blouse, gathered whatever flowers she could find in the area to lay around the site. And long after everyone else cleared out, she stayed, kneeling at the foot of the grave and shaking, sobbing, crying.

Jamil Dexter may not have been her first love, but he certainly was a love of hers. In him, she had found some semblance of everything she'd once hoped to attain in a man: strong, intelligent, caring. And she'd found some semblance of herself in him too. In the way he had been a student before this invasion ordeal. In the way he, too, hated the war and was afraid of the skitters. But most of all, she loved him.

She loved how he always knew the right thing to say. She loved to hear his voice, calling her _Lo _like only her best friends ever did. She loved his technical know-how and his ingenuity. And most of all she loved his company, his presence. She loved the fact that he was always ready to talk to her, to comfort her, to brighten even the worst of days.

And now…he was gone. In the blink of an eye he, like nearly everyone else, had been taken from her. She didn't know why, didn't understand. But he'd died right in front of her, cut down by a mech before her very eyes. And no amount of medical savvy or pills or antibiotics or even a _miracle _could bring him back. Jamil Dexter was really dead. And now Lourdes never felt more alone.

Anne eyed her sympathetically from the rearview mirror of the med bus. She was sitting by herself in the seat, fingering the rosary beads, saying tens upon tens of _Ave Marias _for him, for the mechanic man she'd left behind, barely buried before she had to go. The silence was oppressive. She sometimes wished someone would say _something_ but no one ever did. No one had anything to say to her, only sympathetic looks and occasional pats on the back that were meant to brighten her day but only sent her mood plummeting. The only sound was the diesel motor rumbling along as the convoy slowly trundled toward Charleston.

Charleston. Charleston was supposed to be _their _new home. A place where she and Jamil could lay down some roots, hopefully. Enjoy the running water, the electricity, maybe find a house or something. If the town really was the idyllic landscape that the woman in the plane had promised, it wouldn't be too difficult to settle in. And soon, perhaps, they'd have a family of their own. But none of that could happen now. Because Jamil wasn't there with her, would never be there with her again.

The first night, Anne had taken her aside, hugged her tightly, whispered all sorts of condolences. And she found comfort in her mentor—they both shared the same pain, the loss of a man they loved. But Anne had Tom Mason now, and Lourdes had no one.

It was times like right now that she wished she still had Hal Mason. Hal Mason, who could make her feel safer than anyone else, even Jamil. Hal Mason, with his fearless spirit and his great marksmanship and his hazel eyes and his protective instincts. But Hal was gone too, in a much more painful way. He was there but at the same time he…wasn't.

_I never should have deluded myself into thinking he cared. _Since their paths first crossed so long ago, when this invasion was still just starting, she'd harbored hidden feelings for the boy who was two years her junior. But she had always been convinced that it was just an innocent crush and nothing more. At least, until she'd been stupid and taken a motorcycle from camp, intent on finding med supplies. Hal had saved her that night, saved her from dying.

And over the course of those next four days, they had saved each other's lives numerous times. And they'd kissed. _Twice_. But in the end, he'd walked off from her, had been cold to her. In the weeks following, every time she entered the mess hall he'd leave, anytime she tried to speak to him he'd dodge her questions or statements. Every so often a look of indescribable sadness would pass over his face but that was as far as his emotions would betray. So now, months later, she had mourned that loss and moved on. _But everything comes full circle, doesn't it? _

And now, without Jamil to shower her with affection or hug her close, without _anyone _to offer her any of those comforts, she found herself wishing that she still had Hal. That whatever she'd done wrong in his eyes could be taken back. But how could she win back his approval, his friendship, if he wouldn't even speak a full sentence to her?

Besides, he had Margaret now. A pang of sadness hit her. She envied Margaret sometimes. Most of the time. Margaret was everything Lourdes _wasn't_. She was brave, cool under pressure, strong, _fierce_. She was what Hal needed, what Hal _deserved_. And Lourdes knew in her heart that she could never compete with someone like her.

It hadn't mattered at first. She was even happy that Hal had found someone else. After all, so had she. But now…Hal still had Margaret. And here was Lourdes, all by herself. And now, looking back on it, she felt even worse about herself. Because Jamil had done everything for her. _Everything_. He had taken her aside, held her hand when she found out her aunt and uncle in Parras hadn't made it. He was good to her. And yet…some part of her still harbored feelings for Hal. Some small part of her held on to the bond they'd forged over those four days. Four days that had meant the world to her. Four days that Hal seemed to forget so easily. _I'm sorry, Jamil. I'm so, so sorry that I didn't love you with all my heart. I'm so, so sorry…_

The tears were falling now, flowing like they had been for days. She could see it all over again: the terrifying, metallic clank of mech feet stomping toward her, Jamil shouting her name as she heard the cannon whirring up. And then…he was leaping in front of the blast and she could see him flying backwards, above her and she was screaming, _crying_, scrambling to her feet and running to where he was lying, motionless, _lifeless_. And still the mechs came, still they marched toward her, not content with the death they'd already caused. It took all the strength she had in her to drag Jamil's body to safety. And there she broke down, weeping and praying that he'd wake up. But he never did. And it was then that she first started questioning why any benevolent God would let this happen to her. It was there that the first kernel of doubt was planted in her.

The bus came to a halt, jolting her from her thoughts. Anne turned around to face her, giving her an encouraging smile. "We're stopping here for the now, it seems. I'm going to step out for a minute," she said softly. "Do you feel up to helping any patients that come in?"

One thing Lourdes was grateful for was how understanding Anne had been throughout the whole ordeal. But patients still needed help and it was Lourdes' job to help them. Her own sadness couldn't get in the way of the needs of the others. She nodded her head. Anne rested her hand on the girl's shoulder for a moment, offering a comforting squeeze before disembarking from the bus.

It was a good fifteen minutes before footsteps outside pulled Lourdes from her void of sorrowful, reflective thoughts. At first, she thought it was only Anne but when a blonde-headed woman stepped into view she perked up, the medic in her taking over.

"Margaret," she acknowledged the scout's presence. "Dr. Glass stepped out…what do you need?" She was already pulling on the latex gloves.

Margaret stretched out her right hand, a deep laceration open and bleeding on her palm. "Dropped my knife," she said sheepishly, her delicate voice resonating in the tight quarters. "I tried to catch it and…well you can see the rest."

Lourdes pulled out an alcohol swab from one of the cabinets and had Margaret sit down before proceeding to clean out the deep wound. With that done, she proceeded to stitch up the woman's palm. When she finished, Margaret inspected her newly stitched-up hand.

"Hal told me you were good with a needle and thread," she noted with admiration in her voice. "He wasn't kidding."

Lourdes looked to her with shock. "H-Hal talked about me?"

Margaret leaned back in the chair, recalling memories, a grin crossing her face. "All the time. He wouldn't shut up about how cool under pressure you are…"

_She's exaggerating. He probably mentioned me once at best. _"I'm not cool under pressure," she responded, packing up the medical supplies, suddenly unable to look Margaret in the eyes. _Karen hated you just for talking to Hal. Don't make Margaret hate you too._

Margaret frowned. "You're kidding, right? I've seen you work. It takes a pretty level-headed person to be able to do what you do. And a damn brave one too."

It was startling, really, to hear those words again. Hal had spoken similar things to her during their time at the farmhouse. "It's funny…Hal said that to me too."

The other woman didn't look surprised. "He wasn't lying."

She knew she shouldn't ask, knew that it would likely be a sore subject for Margaret, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Did he…did he ever tell you…about those four days when he found me?"

She watched closely for Margaret's reaction, surprised when the older woman's face remained serene, almost like she'd expected the question. "Bits and pieces," she confessed. "I sort of figured out the rest."

"Oh." Lourdes was aware that she still wasn't meeting the woman's eyes.

"I know he kissed you." Margaret said suddenly, leaning forward on the seat and resting her chin on her hand. Lourdes turned suddenly, completely caught off guard.

"H-how did you know that?"

Margaret smiled disbelievingly. "It's not that hard to tell—the way you looked at him for a while after you got back. The way he looked at you when your back was turned…"

_He looked at me? _"Listen…I'm…I'm really sorry about that. I mean, obviously I…"

Margaret cut her off mid-ramble. "Look, I'm not going to lie and say it never bothered me but…I've come to terms with it. Whatever happened between you two obviously meant a lot to you both…"

"Not Hal," Lourdes sighed, sitting down across from the woman, thoroughly surprised at how well she was taking it all.

"Is that what you think? That it meant nothing to him? Lourdes, stop kidding yourself."

The younger girl looked up. It was the first time she'd ever heard Margaret address her by name. "He has you. And you're better for him anyway…"

Suddenly Margaret's hand was reaching across, resting on Lourdes' knee. At first she nearly flinched, expecting to be assaulted but was surprised to find the fighter looking at her almost kindly.

"I…don't think I'm the best fit for Hal," Margaret confessed in a sort of melancholy sigh. "And I know that you're probably hurting over what happened right now but I think you need to hear this, so here goes: whatever Hal and I have is great…we're close friends, partners in the field. But…at the end of the day I can't help feeling like I don't have anything to offer him. I mean, I can shoot a gun. I can watch his back and he can do the same for me but…someone like you has much more to give to him. You aren't a fighter. You aren't always throwing yourself into harm's way and _that's _really what Hal needs."

A thousand feelings welled up inside of Lourdes. _Why is she being so nice to me? Does she really believe what she's saying? And even if what she says is true, it's still far too soon to try to move on, to even consider moving on …_ "B-but you're…you're a fighter. You aren't afraid. That's _really _what Hal needs," Lourdes countered.

A look that was altogether sad and distant fell across Margaret's features for a brief moment. "I wish that was true. But Hal deserves someone who isn't gonna get herself blown to bits out there. He needs someone consistent and…I don't have that."

"What does that mean?" Lourdes found herself suddenly feeling a bit angry. _I don't want her pity! I don't want her relinquishing someone she obviously cares about just to make me feel better! _

Margaret put her hands in the air and leaned back, as if surrendering. "Take it as you will. But if you ask me, Hal needs you more than he'll ever need me." There was a brief pause. "And I think you need him too."

"What about _you_?" Lourdes challenged.

"Me?" The same sad and distant look flashed across her face once more. "I want what's best for Hal. And if that means that I'm not it, then so be it." She rose now, ready to leave. "Thanks for stitching up my hand." Her voice was reduced to a quiet peep now. "And if you ever want to talk to someone who knows how you feel right now, come find me."

"Thanks, Margaret," Lourdes almost whispered as the other woman headed for the door.

"Maggie."

The girl shot her a questioning look.

"My friends…call me Maggie," she shrugged, both a statement and a request at once. Lourdes smiled, nodded her head once to affirm the new friendship and then Maggie was gone.

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**A/N: I love Maggie. And I don't want her to be this sort of malevolent presence in my story. Honestly, if she and Lourdes had a conversation on the show I think they could be good friends. So obviously, this is Lourdes-centric for the time being. Hal will enter eventually too but I wanted to give Lourdes a sort of 'support' in Maggie and emphasize that this chapter, this sort of unspoken 'permission' that Maggie is granting to her. (Perhaps Maggie is secretly a Hal/Lourdes fangirl? :D Sounds like the beginnings of a crack!fic to me!) Besides, it's obvious that she wants the best for Hal and if she thinks that Lourdes is what's best then I really think she'd give him up. In any event, it may seem like Lourdes is ready to move on too quickly but trust me, Jamil's death will continue to haunt her, especially as the story progresses. We'll even get to see **_**exactly **_**how it happened soon. So review it up and I'll be encouraged to write a bit faster, perhaps! Thanks all!**

**Song of the chapter: Confessions in the Moonlight and The Collapse of Laputa from the **_**Laputa: Castle in the Sky **_**Soundtrack. They're both essentially the same song, but 'Confessions in the Moonlight' is slower. They are entirely instrumental and yet somehow perfectly capture this sort of sad reverie that Lourdes remains in for most of the chapter. Check it out. The film the soundtrack is taken from is supposed to be quite touching as well. **


	2. Raindrops

**A/N: T'was a bit delayed. I apologize. But hey! New episode last night! And Lourdes actually got some important moments, too! She **_**saved **_**Captain Weaver's life! (And then Anne kept talking for her and I was all like 'WTF, let the lady speak!') Anyway, there was also some nice Jamil moments too, great fodder for toying with Lourdes' emotions. (I feel so evil.) So, without further ado, off we go to chapter two. Sorry to disappoint all of you hoping for some of Hal's perspective BUT this is still Lourdes-centric. Hal's POV comes in **_**next **_**chapter (consider it incentive to review and keep reading!) Speaking of reviewing: please do it! Thanks :)**

**PS: Random side note: LOOK! I ADDED A CHAPTER TITLE! And I intend to from here on out...**

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She didn't recognize her own voice when she sang. She hadn't ever sung much, not even when she went to church. She'd mostly just mumble the words, always self-conscious about her singing voice. But after Jamil…was lost…she found herself singing more often. Singing for him, because no one else did. He hadn't mattered so much to anyone else.

"_Sublime gracia del Senor. Que a un pecador salvo…Fui ciego mas hoy miro; yo perdido y el me hallo." _Her voice was lilting, melodic, mournful and haunting, almost like a sorrowful birdsong. The tears streamed down her face and she clutched the rosary close to her breast, fisting the chain as if that would somehow make him materialize in front of her. How she longed for him to just sit down beside her, put his arms around her, tell her everything would be okay. But it was only silence and the sound of her own broken voice. _"Su gracia me enseno a temer, mis dudas ahuyento. O, cuan precioso fue a mi ser cuando el me perdono…" _And then she couldn't carry on, couldn't sing that tearful Spanish funeral hymn any longer because a thousand sorrows filled her and she was trembling now, her sobs audible, laced with grief and agony. She hadn't cried like this since the first night and it occurred to her that this was the first stop they'd made since he had been taken away from her. Every mile was an unbridgeable gap between them, every rotation of the tires carrying her further and further away from the man she'd once loved. And now that they'd stopped, so many miles away, the weight of everything crashed into her full force and she found her grip tightening around the rosary even more.

_I miss you. I need you. I love you. _The thought struck her quickly, without rhyme or reason. It was something she never would have said before, never would have dared to _think _before but now, sitting in this godforsaken bus, weeping for a man who should never have been taken from her, she felt fully justified. And with jaw clenched, a note of stinging in her voice, she uttered the phrase lowly, "There is no God." The rosary clattered to the floor and she stood up, all the sadness replaced with anger. Anger with the skitters, anger with herself, and anger with God. Why did He let this happen? If He was so great and mighty and forgiving then why didn't He look with pity on His once-faithful daughter who tried so hard to keep His word and His name alive? Why did He allow her to be hurt in such a hideous, unfathomable way? Why would He even let this whole invasion take place? There was no God, not to her anymore. Tears pressed at the back of her eyes, stung them. She was shaken down to her core as she collapsed in a fit of tearful rage on the ground, weeping and moaning and wailing like she hadn't had the chance to do before. "There is no God!" And though she may have hated God for letting this happen, she knew in her heart that she hated herself more for saying it.

"_Hope's all we got." _That's what Jamil said to her the first time her faith was shaken, when that boy Diego had told her that Parras had been wiped out, her tio and tia with it. _But you were my hope, Jamil. And I don't have you anymore. _And if she didn't have him anymore, then she didn't have hope anymore. It was the most painful feeling of despair that welled inside of her now, filled her up to the top and spilled over with her tears that just _wouldn't _stop falling. Because she truly had no hope left. Hal was gone, Jamil was gone, _God _was gone.

She picked up the first specimen jar on the counter, empty, and hurled it across the room, the shattering glass mimicking the shattering of her heart, her hopes, her dreams. The next specimen jar followed, slamming into the same point and falling apart on the ground. Then the third. And the fourth. And by the fifth jar she couldn't see anymore, couldn't _feel _anymore. She knew it was childish, pointless, that she was hurting herself more than anything else but she was indifferent to all of that.

Anne finally came rushing in by the time the seventh and final jar hit the wall and cracked into hundreds of sharp pieces. It was good timing on the doctor's part because Lourdes was certain that in another few moments she likely would have used those shards to cut herself up, let herself bleed out on the ground. The woman took in the sight before her and immediately rushed to the broken girl's side. Lourdes was surprised that Anne wasn't angry, wasn't even upset about the specimen jars or the mess. The doctor was hugging her, rocking her back and forth like her mother did all those years ago when she was just a little girl, cowering in fear of the gunshots outside their Mexico City apartment.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered the phrase, let the tears roll of her parted lips as she said it. But she didn't know who she was apologizing to. _To everyone_. To Anne for the mess and for breaking those jars. To Jamil that she hadn't loved him properly, hadn't fully appreciated everything he was to her until _after _he was gone. To God for saying such a thing, for speaking without meaning it.

"It's okay. You're okay," Anne was stroking her hair now, brushing her back gently to soothe her.

She ran a hand beneath her eyes, sniffled. Anne gave her a weak smile that she tried to return. Only she knew the face was more of a grimace than a smile. "I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice carrying all the remorse it possibly could. It only occurred to her now that there was a faint drumming noise outside. _Raindrops_. It had rained that day too, almost like the heavens themselves were crying, echoing her misery. Anne remained there, comfortingly stroking her hair and running a gentle hand up and down her back until she finally fell asleep, the tears not fully dried yet.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Anne that woke her in the morning. "Lourdes!" The dark-haired head swam into view and she took in the handsome boy standing above her, looking down, concern etched into his features. She sat up quickly.

"Hal?" Glancing around, she realized that Anne must have laid her down in one of the patient cots. There were still fragments of glass lying about the floor but most of it had been cleaned up by now. Hal was actually kneeling, watching her closely. "W-what are you doing in here?"

"Anne asked me to keep an eye on the bus while she was gone—said you were really upset about what happened and that she was worried."

Lourdes rubbed her eyes, realizing how swollen and puffy they were. Her throat felt parched and hoarse and her face was tight-feeling from the dried tears. In short, she was positive that she looked like a general wreck. "I'm fine," she said.

Hal laughed humorlessly. "Not in the least," he countered. "So what gives?" She looked at him incredulously. "I mean," he corrected, "why now?"

She shrugged, entirely unsure herself. "I don't know," she admitted. "It's just…this is the first chance I've had to really sit and _think _about it and…" she stopped, her voice strangled by a barely-suppressed sob. She buried her face in her hands.

"Hey," Hal's voice was soft, soothing, close to her. "I know you're hurting right now, we all are. Jamil was an awesome mechanic. He did a great job looking out for all of us. But don't you think he'd be upset to find us all sitting around moping?" Lourdes looked up at him. "I think he'd tell us to keep moving, to get to Charleston, to regroup. And then we stick it to these bastards, huh?" The grin was meant to be encouraging but she really couldn't bring herself to smile back. His face fell. "Lourdes, c'mon…"

"I know!" she said, voice rising. "I know he'd want us to move on but you…you just don't understand, Hal! He may have been a friend to you but he was _more _than that to me!" She couldn't help the feelings of anger stirring in her again, couldn't suppress them. _No one _understood exactly how much Jamil meant to her, least of all Hal. _He _had been the one to pick her up after Hal had just abandoned her like that. _He _had been the one to comfort her through her struggles. And how _dare _Hal come in like this and try to comfort her. _How dare he_? Her breathing was ragged as she glared at the boy, who was clearly surprised by the outburst. She had never yelled like that at anyone before, not even her own sister or her parents. To be honest, it almost scared her. She cleared her throat awkwardly and looked away.

"I'm sorry," Hal mumbled, carefully avoiding looking at her. "I was being insensitive and…I'm sorry. I know he meant a lot to you." There was a note of seemingly misplaced sadness in his voice, like he too was suffering.

"No, I'm sorry," Lourdes finally heaved a sigh, genuine remorse in her voice. "I'm just…it's just…it's too much and I overreacted and took out my anger on you and I'm sorry." The words were a rapid stream, like she couldn't get the apology out fast enough. _Just don't let him get up and leave. _She was starting to enjoy having someone around to keep her company. She needed that.

Hal chuckled lightly. "If that's your worst then I should consider myself lucky…most people would've punched me in that situation. _I _would have punched me."

Lourdes shook her head but froze when Hal's arm made its way around her shoulder. _It's just a comforting gesture. Don't read too much into things, this time. _But it felt nice to have that—an arm around her shoulder. Jamil used to do that for her all the time. _Jamil_. The tears were building pressure at the back of her brown eyes again, one or two spilling over. Hal noticed them with concern.

"You alright?"

_No. No, I'm not alright. I'm a quivering mess of emotions and nerves right now and I miss him so much! _"I loved him," she finally said, her voice distant, wistful. But…was she talking about Jamil or Hal? Both were equally true.

"I know." Hal's voice was barely a whisper as a melancholy air settled over the bus. A shrill beeping from his watch indicated he was needed elsewhere and he was up in a quick motion, the warmth of his arm no longer present. "I have a patrol," he said regretfully. Lourdes nodded.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Don't mention it," Hal did his best to smile encouragingly but it was obviously forced. He bent down and picked something off the floor. _The rosary! _"Think you dropped this," he said, handing it to her. She took it from him.

The weight of what she'd said last night hit her and the chain felt like lead in her hands—dead and heavy. "Thanks," she repeated, this time with less enthusiasm. The rosary that she kept with her for so long suddenly felt like a foreign object to her. Hal opened the bus door and stepped out. She could see the rain still falling steadily, lightly. _Raindrops. _It described how she felt inside perfectly.

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**A/N: Lots of introspection on behalf of Lourdes this chapter. I think I may have made my brother cry a little when he read this…Anyway, next chapter will be from Hal's point-of-view. I wonder what prompted him to return to Lourdes and comfort her? Well we'll find out soon enough! The song Lourdes was singing in the very beginning is just **_**Amazing Grace **_**(but obviously the Spanish version). It's a popular Christian funeral hymn. And Lourdes' rejection of her faith—how was that. I wanted something forceful, that would have an actual impact. And it's going to take a lot to fix not only her relationship with Hal but also with God. That's going to be a struggle for her now, as well. I'd appreciate reviews on this chapter. It would persuade me to write some more, you know. Sorry it was short but I wanted maximum impact and I think any more words would have detracted from the story over all. So anyway, you may deposit your reviews in the handy review-receptacle, AKA that box thingy write down below. Go ahead and write something in it. You know you want to…! **


	3. So Much to Bury

**A/N: Okay, folks. Back in for part 3! From Hal's point of view! Just want to say that my heart, thoughts, and prayers are with those affected by that tragic shooting in Colorado. I'm glad they caught the suspect. On to something happier, though: the wonderful dancerinthedark101 was nice enough to create some amazing cover art for this story (in case you hadn't noticed) and I want to give a sincere thank you (and a big shout out) to her for taking the time to do that! Isn't it great? You should check out her writing, too, it's just as good and if not better than her Photoshop skills! Also, if you saw my Twitter page, you know that this coming episode looks to be the end of the line for Jamil. There was a scene posted on Huffington Post with Lourdes brooding over his bloody form and it looks like he blew apart from the inside out in the final frame (pretty gross). If that's the case, this story will be AU in terms of **_**how **_**Jamil died and canon in terms of the fact that he's still dead. Anyway, that's all for my chattering. Please review once you're done!**

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This wasn't what he wished for. Sometimes he wished he could take back what happened at that farmhouse, change his actions so that he might still have Lourdes. But _this _was never something he had wished for.

He wasn't going to lie and say he never enjoyed the attention Lourdes gave him, even while he was with Karen. He just never expected he might actually…have feelings for her. But those four days taught him how much she really mattered, and also why they couldn't be together. Hal would undoubtedly put her at risk in ways she couldn't or simply _wouldn't _defend herself against. But he could never stop the little pangs of jealousy he felt when he watched her becoming more comfortable, falling more in love with Jamil, even while he himself pined after Maggie.

Maggie, he decided, was more suited to him. She could defend herself against whatever situations they were thrown into. She knew how to use a gun, she didn't hesitate to shoot skitters, and he'd seen the damage killing a living thing had done to Lourdes. Maggie was a fighter and though they may find themselves in precarious situations, he knew she would fight her way out guns blazing.

But…Maggie had made it apparent time and again that she didn't think they were right for one another. And maybe she was right. Maybe they were _too _similar to benefit from each other. Maybe he didn't have much to offer to her. Maybe she didn't have much to offer him either. Maybe they were better off as partners-in-arms, not partners in love.

_Love_. He wasn't the romantic type, preferred to keep his feelings to himself and out of the way. Was there even time for such a thing as love in a world like this? The basic human heart in him told him there would _always _be time for emotions like love, regardless of whatever the world had gone to. It was a basic, human emotion, perhaps the only one exclusive to the human species. No matter what his brain told him about love being a distraction, a weakness, he knew he wouldn't be able to live a life like that—a life where nothing but survival mattered. If all he did was try to survive, when would he actually _live_?

The love he had for Maggie was a loving respect, an admiration for the strength that such a seemingly delicate woman could radiate. Her story, her past resonated with him, intrigued him. But the more she pushed him away for whatever reason, the more he considered it, the more he realized that this respect was all his love for her would ever be. And when he thought back to the feelings he had while alone with Lourdes, he realized that _that_, whatever it was, was a stronger attachment. That was what had driven him to visit the med bus that morning, to see how the girl was holding up.

And when Anne told him that she had been on the verge of suicide the night before he knew that she had been shaken to her core. He had never seen her like that. Lourdes was normally so level-headed, so professionally detached from her surroundings. It was the mark of a truly great doctor to be able to set aside emotional investments during crisis. She was _perfect_ at that. He had watched her stitch up dozens of civilians, people she knew personally. He had been there when people they both knew and loved died right before them. For her to suddenly break down was something entirely new and it occurred to him that whatever inner turmoil she felt had been building, that she had really been trying to remain optimistic and calm on the exterior. And he realized how detached from her he had become, to the point that he hadn't really considered how she felt until now.

And now, he realized how much she needed someone to be there for her. And he wanted to _be _that someone. Only Lourdes was guarded now, inaccessible, much the same way he had been towards her for so long. He finally comprehended what it must have been like to be shut out like that. He had just a taste of it every time he dealt with Ben and now, it seemed, he was in for more when he tried to deal with Lourdes.

It had been with Maggie's encouragement, also, that he had gone to see Lourdes that morning. He was initially quite surprised to find out that the scout had gone to talk with her.

* * *

"_I talked to Lourdes yesterday afternoon," Maggie sat down beside him as he polished his gun. _

"_Yeah?" He was surprised to hear her say the medic's name. _

_The blonde nodded. "Yeah. We…had a chat about what's been going on." _

"_How's she taking it?"_

"_Obviously she's hurting…I don't think it's caught up with her yet—everything that happened, I mean." _

"_She's in denial?"_

_Maggie looked distant, as if remembering something for herself. "No…it's…more like a delay of grief. It'll catch up to her." _

_Hal nodded, continuing to wipe down the barrel of his weapon long after it was clean. For a while, silence settled between them, he lost in thoughts of what happened and she…lost in thoughts he couldn't possibly know about. _

"_You should go see her." _

"_What?" his head snapped in her direction. _

"_I said," Maggie reiterated slowly, "you should go see her. I think it'd do her good. And you." _

"_Me?"_

_There was a knowing smile on Maggie's face now, mixed with some frustration at his playing dumb. He knew _exactly _what she was talking about. She knew it. He knew she knew it. "Yes, you. Stop playing games, Hal, you spent four days with the girl on that farm and you weren't the same when you came back. Whether you like it or not, you care about her and that's why _you _have to be there for her now."_

"_What about you?" _

_Sadness flickered across her features for just a moment. "I'm done with my grieving…I don't need someone there for me anymore. She does." _

And so he had gone to see Lourdes, convincing himself, _lying _to himself that it was only to appease Maggie. It was almost like he had been waiting for her permission before he went off, like he wanted to know she'd be fine with it. And she had hinted time and again to something deeper than she would reveal. It was clear that Maggie was sympathetic—or perhaps empathetic—to Lourdes' situation. The amount of compassion she was showing the girl was puzzling to him. But he had wanted to check in with the medic and he decided that Maggie's urging was the final push he needed to act on it.

When he got there, Anne elaborated on the extent of the damage Jamil's death had done.

"_I found her last night she was…she was breaking down. She broke some jars, she was screaming…crying," Anne shook her head, a clearly distressed look on her face. "When I was working in the hospital someone with her symptoms would have been put on suicide watch. I've been watching her closely all night, just to be sure. She's asleep now…would you mind keeping an eye on her for fifteen minutes? I just want to run and grab some coffee…"_

"_Yeah, no problem," Hal nodded, trying to sound as accommodating as possible. He hadn't realized that it had gone this deep, that she was affected so badly that Anne had to essentially ensure she didn't try to kill herself. _

_He entered the bus cautiously, found the young medic lying on one of the cots, tears streaking her face, her eyes puffy and swollen even behind shut eyelids. Small glass fragments still lay about the floor, the last evidence of what Anne had described. He didn't want to wake her, but her tossing and turning and occasional gasps for breath finally prompted him to awaken her before she accidentally hurt herself. _

_He tried to cheer her up, he really did. But she had been unreceptive to his attempts. And, he wasn't going to lie, he did sound a bit callous and insensitive to her pain. It wasn't too long ago he'd lost his mother, even less time since he'd lost Karen, found her, and lost her again. He knew just a taste of what Lourdes was feeling now. Her angry response proved to him how badly grieved she truly was and he knew he'd have to shift tactics then and there if he ever wanted to be of any help to her. He would have to open himself up to her and hope she'd do the same. _

It was never easy to open up for Hal. He hated feeling vulnerable and he preferred to bury whatever strong emotions he felt beneath a more hardened exterior. And perhaps that's why he'd grown up so much in the past months since the invasion. There was just _so much _to bury.

* * *

**A/N: Anxiously awaiting Lourdes' big moment tonight on the show. I think we need a Team Lourdes? WHO'S WITH ME? We've seen Team Karen, Team Maggie, TEAM LOURDES FOREVER! Okay, getting a bit crazy now. I thought I'd end it on a pondering note for Hal, and I do love double meanings at the end of chapters too :) Anyway, I love reviews so please leave me one. Hopefully I'll update this story again today after watching the show. If not, it should come up pretty quickly afterwards. Thanks, all!**

**This chapter's musical inspirations:**

**Drive By—Train**

**I Won't Give Up—Jason Mraz**

**I'll Stand By You—The Pretenders**

**Both of Us—B.O.B featuring Taylor Swift**

**Hallelujah—Kate Voegele **

**My Reflection—SanguinDrake (that would be Sarah Sanguin Carter's band!) **

**-wow, lots of sappy sad stuff. Huh. **


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